He did not move from the door, and she did not look up from the newspaper.
"Seen your friend Big James this morning?"
Edwin usually went down to business before breakfast, so that his conscience might be free for a leisurely meal at nine o'clock. Big James was the oldest employee in the business. Originally he had been foreman compositor, and was still technically so described, but in fact he was general manager and Edwin's majestic vicegerent in all the printing-shops. "Ask Big James," was the watchword of the whole organism.
"No," said Edwin. "Why?"
"Oh, nothing! It doesn't matter."
Edwin had made certain resolutions about his temper, but it seemed to him that such a reply justified annoyance, and he therefore permitted himself to be annoyed, failing to see that serenity is a positive virtue only when there is justification for annoyance. The nincompoop had not even begun to perceive that what is called "right-living" means the acceptance of injustice and the excusing of the inexcusable.
"Now then," he said, brusquely. "Out with it." But there was still a trace of rough tolerance in his voice.
"No. It's all right. I was wrong to mention it."
Her admission of sin did not in the least placate him.
He advanced towards the table.